


This Is How It Actually Happened

by accioslash



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Dark, Dark Comedy, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Miscarriage, Murder, Other, Polyjuice Potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accioslash/pseuds/accioslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus never meant for it to happen....</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is How It Actually Happened

Snape never meant for it to happen. Not that he thought anyone would believe him. Hell, he wasn't sure he believed it himself. But, nonetheless, it was true. He'd been taking anti-venom for years and there was little that phoenix tears couldn't cure. He'd waited until Potter had gone before carefully levering himself up from the floor of the Shack. It didn't matter to him whether it was Potter or The Dark Lord who won. Both assumed he was dead, had bled out on the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack. An ignoble and unjust end for a man who had sacrificed all that he had done, but a habitual occurrence in the life of Severus Snape. He was feeling disoriented and light-headed, but he was _free_. There would be no more kowtowing to wizards who were blessed with no more talent but were ten times luckier than he.

So he had smirked and reached for his portkey. And that's when everything had gone wrong.

That stupid girl! Stumbling into the Shack where she had no business. Surely only a Death Eater looking to make sure he was unequivocally dead should have been poking their nose where it wasn't wanted or needed. Not that ridiculous assumed future broodmare. What choice did he have? He was _this_ close. He couldn't let them find him. He was still feeling queasy and there was a flash of green from his wand before he could even think.

And Ginevra Weasley was no more.

Now, even with the blood loss he was all too aware that even such an accomplished prevaricator as himself would be unable to convince anyone it had been an accident. So, he really had no choice in the matter. He'd had to do it. Impersonate her. Just temporarily. Just long enough for him, well _her_ , to be seen and she could appear to die courageously in the final battle and then he could slip off and be free to live his own life.

He'd almost got away with it, too. He'd taunted Bellatrix and he was _this_ close. But then Molly Weasley stepped in and a fine time for her to recall spells to banish pests more annoying -and more lethal- than doxies. Try as he might, he'd not been able to evade everyone. Not when there had been all that blubbering and wailing over that surplus twin (he'd since learned it was Fred) as everyone was so _concerned_ about George.

And then Potter had swooped back in eschewing the next great adventure for the chance at an Auror's robe, a desk at the ministry and a cottage in Godric's Hollow with a Crup and 2.5 apple-cheeked brats. The idiot never left his side and there never seemed to be an opportunity to bolt.

And, well, it was rather...nice. To be attractive. To be wanted. To be as abrasive and cruel as ever, but fawned over by the public and press alike. Adored by the masses as sweetheart and future blushing bride to the savior of the Wizarding world. And there were all those galleons and such attentive suitors to hang on his every word. As existences went, this one wasn't intolerable.

Too there was the fairy tale wedding and idyllic countryside cottage with enough wizard space to expand as much as required for the next generation of Potters. It was charmingly domestic. Snape thought he might quite possibly sick up merely thinking on it. Or it could have been the Polyjuice.

Polyjuice potion was never meant for such extended use. He'd tried. Oh, he'd done his best. His improved formula made it possible for the transformation to last nearly fourteen hours before he'd needed another dose. Difficult, but not impossible for such an adept spy to maintain his cover under normal circumstances. After all, Barty Crouch, Jr had managed it for an entire school year and without his modifications. But a pregnancy? No. Even the slightest miscalculation, the tiniest misstep and a miscarriage would be the only result.

He'd delayed as long as possible, hoping he could arrange a believable (but survivable) fatal-appearing accident for Ginevra. But no opportunities presented themselves and inevitably the rumors began. Snape listened as the murmurs and whispers turned to accusations and looks of pity. Not to mention speculation that perhaps Potter needed to find a spouse who would provide him with the children and family his heroism had earned. That just would not do. So there was nothing for it. The conception itself was effortless and the act agreeable. Potter was almost comically sentimental. Soppy and affectionate, but with some diligent tutoring the boy really learned to put his back into it.

Snape maintained that pregnancy for less than a week. Potter had been unaware and Snape never enlightened him until the third conception which had endured long enough for symptoms of pregnancy to appear. Almost immediately after, Snape had miscarried. Potter had been dismayed but the Healers assured him he was young, his wife healthy and their home would soon be filled with the pitter-patter of an entire brood of unruly Gryffindor feet.

Once, he had even made it all the way until his belly was swollen with a healthy child the Healers were confident would thrive and break the Potters' streak of misfortune. That one was stillborn. Potter named him James Sirius and Snape couldn't help feeling a bit of triumph that he'd outlived James Potter for the second time.

A second stillborn infant (if it could be called that; Snape could have sworn he glimpsed a tail) was named after Dumbledore and, surprisingly, himself. The Healers felt it would be healthier for the couple if they could mourn their lost children by name. Potter almost wept when he'd initially suggested they name it "Parasite II". Later losses went unnamed. He categorically refused to allow Potter to name any after Lily. That was a loss Snape wasn't prepared to bear again.

Eventually, Potter -eyes red-rimmed and face lined with both exhaustion and determination- confessed to a Muggle vasectomy. He could no longer put Snape - _Ginny_ through this anguish and took matters into his own hands. Snape refused to sleep with him for six months but used that opportunity to reacquaint himself with several of Miss Weasley's former Hogwarts and Holyhead Harpies admirers of both sexes. If Potter was aware of the affairs, he gave no indication. Though the _Prophet_ was uncharacteristically silent on the matter.

Six months after that and the Potters' application for the adoption of an infant girl - Snape made certain the child was bred by parents whose ancestors sorted exclusively Slytherin back for ten generations - was approved. The Wizarding world rejoiced.

And, now that he'd provided Potter with a child (after all, Potter _had_ been an acceptable companion to him and it would delight him no end to see a Potter in Slytherin), Snape considered arranging an accident for Ginevra Potter which would enable him to decamp to parts unknown to begin a life on his own free from both Potter and the persistent after-taste of lacewing flies.

However, he found himself strangely reluctant. Potter really _was_ a respectable lover now that Snape had trained him up. And there was certainly something to be said for enthusiasm AND flexibility. Not to mention a positively indecent amount of galleons. So perhaps it was for the best that Snape remain at least a bit longer. Well, as long as the bag of hair lasted anyway.

Snape never meant for it to happen. Trelawney certainly couldn't have predicted it (notwithstanding she couldn't have predicted she'd get wet if she fell out of a boat into the Black Lake). But, somehow, he couldn't bring himself to regret the way his life had turned out. Regret, he suspected, would be for another day.


End file.
